


too deep for this ship

by LSFOREVER



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boat Sex, Boats and Ships, Brief Face-Fucking, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Hate to Love, I Will Go Down With This Ship, LITERALLY, M/M, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, don't worry all is resolved, friendship drama, now the yummy tags ;), oh also strong lilo and nouis friendships bc obvi, yayayay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:59:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5142263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSFOREVER/pseuds/LSFOREVER
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is new in town. He's filthy rich, lives on the yacht his dad gave him, wears stupid Chelsea boots on the dirty, bird-shit covered dock, and while Louis tries to distance himself mentally from people like Harry, it's hard to when he has a smile like that. He's everything Louis never expected him to be and more, and it isn't long before Louis caves and gives himself to the gorgeous, bubbly lad.</p><p>~</p><p>Also known as the fic where Louis' profession is not common (previously unheard of by the author), Harry is a lovely contradiction like always, Niall is easily amused and constantly lazy, Liam is a secret-keeping little shit, and Zayn is a complete secret — at first. It all makes sense, eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	too deep for this ship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [godgavemelou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/godgavemelou/gifts).



> I hope you like this, godgavemelou, because it was a piece of hard work and I am not completely satisfied with it. I didn't go along perfectly with the prompt, but I did most of the way, so hopefully it's alright. :) Thanks for the wonderful promps, by the way. (If I had more time I would've definitely included some of the first prompt ;) in this, but as it is...)
> 
> Thank you mods for putting this exchange together! BIG THANK YOU to my beta **Z**. I love you and owe you the world two times over. Just saying. :) Also, shout out to **B** and **A** for being there for me throughout these past few really crazy months. Love you girlies <3.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> — Kat Xx
> 
>  
> 
> PS. The hate thing in that tag above is not as bad as you might think. It's brief, could even be considered as less than hate. More like dislike at first because of biased opinion. It changes soon enough, in case you were worried. Also, sorry about the title. I couldn't come up with anything creative. :/

 

The earliest parts of morning—when everything is still dewy, the air is crisp and fresh, and the sky is painted with light and dark purples splashed with faint pinks and dotted with wispy clouds—is the time Louis loves best. He loves breathing in the fresh air that smells like the sea, letting it fill and expand his lungs after hours inside his stuffy flat. He loves the beautiful colours that make up the sky, still transitioning from night to day, faint hints of stars against darker violet in the west and light purples and crimsons mixing in the east. He loves it all.

Louis grew up pressing snooze twice every morning and being the grumpiest morning person. If someone were to even say Louis and morning in the same sentence he’d cringe.

Now, on the other hand, Louis’ not only used to waking up with the birds with a smile, but he embraces it. It’s especially nice on the mornings he has work because he gets to work just as the sun starts rising, gets to watch how the sky changes, gets to watch the birds come alive and flock together, all while doing his favourite thing: working at the docks.

His granddad did it after retiring from fishing, and Louis had always been fascinated whenever he came to stay with his grandparents for the weekend. He always loved coming to the docks with his granddad, watching him clean up the docks, check on the ties of the boats to make sure they were tight enough, check on the occupants of the boats (if they lived in them) to make sure they were alive and healthy, even picking up small jobs here and there to help clean the decks and insides of the boats for a little extra ice-cream money.

That’s why Louis moved to Crimbleton Cove when he was nineteen, after his granddad died. He was planning on going to uni, but his grandma would no doubt have been lonely and Louis was able to fill in for his granddad easily.

He does everything his granddad did, except more. There’s a little bakery sectioned off a little way from the main street, close to the docks, where Louis will pick up extra shifts at if they need it, and the little kids always running around—watching the fishermen unload when they come back—get so excited when he invites them to help him clean up the slightly rocky shore. Often they’ll find a small crab or a cockle, tiny fingers dipping into the water, eyes wide and curious. Louis loves that he’s causing them to become excited about the sea, just as he was when he was their age.

Though he’s usually chatting with fishermen and shooing away cats, this particular morning, like yesterday morning and a few mornings last week, Louis was asked to help in the, hm, should he say, _richer_ end of the docks. Which sounds a horrible, he knows, but it’s true. There’s the fishing boats and smaller boats that people live in, and then a bit further up is where the private yachts and vessels dock.

Louis prefers it with Larry and Paul and Liall, helping tame some particularly nippy crabs sometimes or sharing a pint down at the local pub. He’s not really fond of keeping the docks spic and span and listening to snobs complain about (god forbid) bird shit and being paid two measly fucking pounds for helping carrying ten bags on board a fifty foot yacht for an overnight stay out on the water.

But, Liam—Louis’ best mate and the guy who usually mans these nicer parts—has apparently met someone and has been staying up too late to be able to man the docks in the morning like usual. Louis’ only taking his place because Liam promised him a full day’s pay for every time Louis helps, and the first round free at the pub.

This morning in particular, Louis only gets a few minutes to watch the faint colours of the sky brightening they way they do right before sunrise before an older, grey haired man with a scowl asks—demands, more like—Louis to come help him clean the “nasty bird shit off me deck,” while shoving a couple of fivers in Louis’ hand.

Louis grumbles but he follows the man anyway, pocketing the money. There’s a woman and a little girl running down the dock towards the yacht when Louis is finally done mopping up the deck, and Louis offers to help them step on board before stepping off.

“Have fun on the water,” he tells the little girl, smiling and waving at her, then smiling again when the mother thanks him.

“Did Gregory pay you for helping, sweetie?” she asks, patting the top of her curly haired daughter’s head before the little girl runs off, yelling _daddy_ excitedly, entirely too energetic for this early in the morning. The lady is sweet, Louis notes, and he offers her his biggest smile. It’s not often he comes across genuinely nice people from these sides of the docks.

After pulling out the two fivers to show her, Louis nods to her, then steps back away from the edge of the dock. “Enjoy your day out on the water.” He waves, then walks back up to where he’s decided to relax whenever he’s not working.

It’s a small station a bit off to the side but still more than close enough to the entrance so he can see who all comes and goes, complete with a comfortable fold-up chair, a small cooler for water and snacks, and his phone and a pocket-charger. It’s nice, especially when there are extra snobby people that he can Snapchat pictures and videos with vulgar captions to Liam and his housemate, Niall.

Louis’ doing just that right now, snapping a picture to Niall of a woman in stilettos holding a Louis Vuitton handbag (Louis grew up with four sisters—now five and a brother—and a mother who were all very fashion forward) and wearing sunglasses that probably cost more than Louis’ monthly rent. He adds _fuck those skinny bitches on the docks_, knowing Niall will appreciate the song reference. Then he adds a picture of the same lady to his story, captioning it _are we in LA now_.

It’s only a little amusing when a moment later, said lady is asking Louis to help her and her friends find some early-morning-boat-tea-party-whatever-the-fuck. He has to ask who the host of the party is before leading them to the right place, accepting the tenner the first lady gives him.

It’s a bit disconcerting, Louis thinks to himself as he turns back around, how much less work he actually does here and how many more ‘tips’ he earns. Maybe that’s why Liam likes it so much. Louis, on the other hand, will always love helping down at the other end of the docks, helping with the catches of the day, assisting the smaller trading ships with crates and other things—he enjoys working in the sun, getting sweaty, feeling exhausted when he gets home. He feels worked, like he actually did put effort into the day.

Plus, it’s like his own personal workout.

Instead of tips in money, he gets tips on real life. Most of the people he works around are older, and it’s nice having civil conversations with him (while also gossiping about the children and grandchildren’s lives, most of whom are Louis’ age).

He’d rather be working right now, rather than showing people around and cleaning bird faeces, but the little bit of extra money is nice, if only so he can put it aside with the rest of his savings.

(He and Liam have been trying to save up for a better flat closer to the middle of the city for a little while now, and every penny counts. Especially since Liam’s offer to buy him the first round at the pub tonight).

He’s wondering if he’ll have enough time to stop by to see Paul during lunch later to ask how his kids are doing, walking back to get himself a water bottle from his cooler, when he sees a curly haired lad sitting in his chair and holding the nicest—and probably most expensive—fishing pole Louis has ever seen.

Upon closer inspection, Louis notices the how pale the man’s skin is, which is odd because it’s the middle of July; he notices how his unruly curls just reach his shoulders and look soft enough that Louis has the urge to run his fingers through them; he’s wearing the tightest skinny jeans, the most ridiculously patterned, short sleeved shirt that’s hanging half open and showing faint traces of tattoos, and dark brown boots that look worn but in the fake way.

And Louis doesn’t like him already.

“The fuck are you doing in my chair?” he snaps, maybe a bit harsher than he should’ve, when it’s obvious the lad didn’t hear him walk up.

Said lad jumps and curses softly, upper body twisting around and eyes meeting Louis’. And, oh. Okay. Those green eyes are beautiful as fuck, and his pink lips are so plump, like maybe he’s been kissing someone, and the skin on his face and neck is just as pale and smooth as the rest of him. Louis wasn’t expecting a pretty face attached to the pretentious hipster body, but what can he do. Mother nature probably decided to throw a curveball at him after he threw his gum on the ground in a park yesterday.

Oh well.

“Sorry. Uhm. Shit, I’m so s-sorry,” the man stutters, trying to get up but moving too fast and stumbling over himself. Louis only rolls his eyes a little as he reaches out to steady the man by his shoulders. He’s clumsy too; why doesn’t that surprise Louis. “I didn’t mean—damn. There were some kids trying to run past, talking about, uhm, seeing all the ‘big, fancy boats’. I didn’t think they were allowed past so I told them to run off.”

The man looks nervous, the hand not holding the fishing pole rubbing at the back of his neck, barely meeting Louis’ eyes. Louis almost rolls his eyes again—pretty, obviously rich, nervous boys are almost worst than old, snobby prudes. Mainly because their pricks are all Louis is capable of thinking about, which is never good when they’re also a dick. “Well, thanks for that, I guess,” he says, “They aren’t allowed past unless they come with a family member or friend who owns anything beyond this point. What were you doing in my chair though?”

“Oh!” The man holds out his pole, looking less nervous and more excited now as he explains, “Well, I just got here a little bit ago. I was going try out a bit of fishing with this new pole on the yacht dad just gave me, since I’ve never fished before. But when I got here I saw those kids lingering around the entrance, talking about the boats, and they almost went in, too, but I ran up to them and asked them if they had anywhere to be, and they said no, and when I told them they should leave, they just argued back, and—”

“Hey,” Louis interrupts, finding the man’s rambling a bit endearing, while also hating himself and the man for liking it. This man is a bit odd, Louis concludes, but he’s not that bad. “I asked why you were in my chair?”

He looks embarrassed, fingers tugging at his bottom lip a little and eyes on his feet. Louis almost feels bad, _almost_ , but then the lad is saying, “Saw them lingering down the road a bit and nobody was here to watch it so—” he shrugs, finally meeting Louis’ eyes, “—I thought I’d stay, just until whoever usually sits here gets back. Which you are now. I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Louis,” Louis says back quietly, crossing his arms and staring at Harry a bit with his eyebrows furrowed, curious. Of all the times he’s filled in for Liam, Louis’ learned that when someone walks down these docks willy-nilly when they aren’t supposed to, the other occupants will get pissed at Louis for letting them past. They’ve never tried to shoo the unwanted patrons away, always force that job on Louis. Not once has someone tried to get people to leave.

But Harry here, well. Either he’s trying to bribe Louis into doing something for him on his new yacht, or he’s actually concerned about the conditions of these docks and the happiness of the patrons. Given that he’s a rich dick, it’s most likely the first reason.

Louis has to shake his head a little, more than a little confused, before he says something actually worth noting. “Thank you for that, then. You said your dad gave you the yacht?”

“Yep. For my twentieth birthday, actually, which was actually back in February but I’ve been a bit too busy to come out here until now. I’m excited to see what it looks like on the inside.” Harry’s smiling now, teeth and all, and Louis feels his stomach flutter a little.

He pushes those feeling away, though, standing up straighter as he asks, “Last name then?” Another part of his job here on these docks is to make sure that anybody going in or out is supposed to be here, and the first thing he did before taking Liam’s shifts was memorize the last names of people who own vessels and station them here.

“Mine’s Styles, but dad’s is Twist. He’s actually my stepdad.” Twist is the fourth name on the list of names he memorized, Louis remembers well, so he side-steps Harry to sit in his chair, waving him along. “Alright then. Have fun fishing for the first time.”

“Uhm.” Louis looks back up into green eyes, raising his eyebrows in question at Harry. “Another guy, Richard Harris, is coming along too. He stopped by a shop down the street to get himself some gum or something, but he’s going to be sailing the ship for me, since I haven’t learned to do it myself. Yet. Just, uhm, thought I’d let you know. So you can let him past.”

“Alright, Harold. I’ll let him through. See you.” Louis says it in a way that clearly means this is the end of their conversation, then takes his phone out and pointedly looks down at it. He’s got a snap from Niall and a text from his mother.

A few long seconds later, Louis hears Harry walk away, boots clicking down the semi-polished, wooden dock. He spares a glance up, seeing Harry’s retreating form. His eyes catch over Harry’s pert bum and delicious looking thighs, and after he realizes he’s staring, Louis forces himself to look down, hoping the blush on his cheeks can be blamed on the now risen sun.

-

Liam calls Louis the next morning and asks him to cover the posh docks for him again. There’s a moment when Louis almost yells, but then Liam reminds him free pints later in his sickeningly sweet morning voice, so Louis just grumbles and throws his phone. On the bed. So it won’t break.

He was really hoping he’d get to ask Liall about his wife today, but instead he has to walk straight past them with a quick smile in order to get to the other side of the docks, walking fast since he’s running a little late. Every morning this whole week Louis’ been covering for Liam. Liam eventually shows up around noon to take over and Louis gets to have a few hours where he’s supposed to work, but he’s still irritated at the man.

He just hopes nobody has needed him yet, or he might get an earful. Not that he won’t get an earful anyway—snooty rich people really do love shouting at him.

Harry is standing, leaning against a pole, when Louis finally gets there, and he stands up straighter. “Louis, hi,” Harry says, smiling at Louis, eyes bright like he doesn’t even care that Louis’ late.

“Hey,” Louis says back, side-stepping him and looking around. There’s nobody else that Louis can see, and from the looks of it all the different vessels are still in place. Louis lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in, glad he didn’t miss anybody, then turns back to see Harry still standing there. “Did you need help with something?”

“Nope.” Harry pops the ‘p’, hands clasped behind his back and toes pointed inward. Louis’ eyes linger on those worn boots, black today, with heels that make him a bit taller. Louis almost wrinkles his nose, almost frowns—who actually wears boots like that, what the _fuck_ —but decides not to when Harry starts talking again. “Same kids from before where trying sneak in. I figured I’d wait here till you got here.”

Louis grumbles at that, taking his phone out to send Liam a hate filled text with x’s at the end. “’M not even supposed to be here. Shouldn’t’ve been here all damn week,” he complains, then pockets his phone. When he looks up again, Harry’s pinching his bottom lip between his fingers, frowning down at his shoes, and Louis doesn’t even know why but he suddenly feels the need to comfort Harry. For whatever reason.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even know Harry, has only ever talked to him twice, including now.

“Well thanks for running them off again. They should know by now not to be here. If I see them I’ll have to tell ‘em off or something.”

Harry looks up, then a smile slowly spreads on his face. Louis doesn’t like where this is going so he looks back behind himself, pointing when he looks back. He’s about to speak, but then Harry is saying, “Could you help me with something?” hurriedly, eyes a bit anxious.

Sighing internally, Louis fully faces Harry, not wanting to seem completely rude by bugging off when Harry needs him. “What do you need help with, mate?” he asks, forcing a smile and hoping it looks at least a little genuine.

For a second Harry’s eyes go wide, like he wasn’t actually expecting Louis to help him, even though it’s partially Louis’ job and they both know it. Louis tries not to find a little offence in that. Though he hates working around here, helping people when they need it is still nice, especially when he comes across those rare ones that are actually decent towards him. And when he gets tips.

Trying to ignore the fact that Harry thought Louis wouldn’t help, Louis thinks about the fact that Harry actually asked, rather than assuming that Louis had to help him. Harry didn’t demand his attention, nor has he ever. That’s kind of nice…

“I bought new furniture and it just came in yesterday, but Richard didn’t come with me today, so I was wondering if maybe you could help me rearrange a bit?” He’s rubbing the back of his neck, and Louis has to tear his eyes away from those hands, big and strong looking, skin soft.

He gulps, putting on a straight face as he looks up at Harry again. “You want me to help you rearrange your boat,” he deadpans, but it doesn’t even surprise him. Not one bit. Louis doesn’t know how big Harry’s yacht is; he has no doubt it’s big enough to have a lot of furniture in that needs to be moved around.

Again Harry looks nervous, and Louis almost scolds himself for doing that. “Sure, I’ll help. But I’m not doing it for free.” And that—Louis hates that too. He loves getting tips, especially from the generous people who indirectly buy him lunch for the day, but he hates having to point out that he’d like some pay in return for lending a hand. And it’s not like he doubted Harry would pay him, but sometimes people can be so gullible about some things.

Thankfully, Harry’s eyes light up and he starts talking about pay. “Definitely. I wouldn’t not pay you for your help. And there’s plenty of water and hydrating drinks on board so if you need to take a break.” He’s walking down the dock now, and Louis follows, stuffing his hands in his pockets while Harry rambles about how he’s been remodelling the whole inside of the yacht, blah blah blah.

His low, smooth, drawling voice is nice to listen too, and Louis finds himself thinking that he could listen to it all day, no matter what Harry’s talking about. Plus, Harry makes these hand gestures that have nothing to do with what he’s talking about most of the time, which is a bit amusing in itself. Louis has to stop himself from smiling a bit too hard at how endearing Harry actually is, especially when Harry’s eyes seem to brighten even more when he starts talking about the paint colours he picked out and plans on using next week.

It’s not even surprising when Harry stops in front of what looks to be a seventy foot yacht, complete with two separate decks—the main deck that they will end up walking on to, and the smaller one higher up that’s only accessible from doors on the inside—and that’s not even including the cabin up above. It’s so fancy and expensive looking that Louis momentarily worries about getting the shiny deck all dirty with his old boots.

Harry doesn’t seem to care though. He just walks right on, not even looking behind himself, and Louis quickly rubs the bottoms of his boots on the edge of the dock before stepping on as well. Harry leads him right inside without hesitation. Once there, Louis scans over the large room, taking in the bar on one side, half-setup entertainment centre by the far wall next to the three separate doors, and the small lounge near the doors they just walked in.

There’s also a large, empty space across from the bar, right near the edge of where the glass walls end.

There’s no curtains so the (rare) sunlight comes right in. There are boxes here and there, as well as plastic still covering the furniture in the lounging area. Briefly Louis wonders where the three doors go, but when Harry starts talking about wanting to move everything before taking the plastic off, Louis’ mind comes back into focus and he goes to stand on the opposite side of the sofa, across from Harry.

“Where do you want this?” he asks when Harry finally stops talking.

“Just a bit over here, actually,” Harry explains, gesturing to a spot just a few feet away. Louis internally thanks the stars, then Harry continues, “And that settee is going to go here. There’s a table that I was going to use upstairs, but decided it would look better down here, too.”

“Alright then.” Louis looks at Harry, then takes a deep breath as he claps his hands together. “Let’s do this… I guess.” He mutters the last part quietly to himself, smiling when Harry does.

It doesn’t take them very long to move everything the way Harry said he wanted it, and while Harry is upstairs getting the small table (“I can get it myself, Lou,” Harry had insisted just a few minutes ago,) Louis is supposed to be unzipping the plastic and stuffing it in the empty boxes. He’s done by the time Harry comes tumbling through one of the doors holding the table. It’s a bit larger than Louis was expecting, but Harry seems to be doing just fine.

When they’re done with that, Harry shyly asks if Louis can help with the entertainment centre too, and Louis agrees easily, following Harry over to the carpeted area. The TV is already mounted on the wall, the Xbox and everything else stored in the cabinets below. Louis helps Harry with all the cords, making sure everything is plugged in where it needs to be, and then he helps with the surround sound too (that apparently is a lot harder to set up than the instructions say they are).

By the time they’re done, Louis’ actually laughed at Harry’s jokes a couple of times and they’re having an interesting conversation on the different types of fish Harry hopes to catch one day.

Harry offers Louis a water bottle break, but then soon after Louis is agreeing to helping Harry with the bedroom upstairs, which he soon learns is what leads to the second and smaller deck. There’s a mattress leaned up against the wall, some deck chairs near the doors that lead out, and a few other things.

It’s nice, Louis finds himself thinking, helping Harry set up the bed frame for the ‘daybed’ (as Harry had called it) and talking with him, learning about him. Harry isn’t snobby like a lot of the other people around here, Louis learns. He’s actually really sweet, very interested in Louis and not seeming to care that he’s wearing boots that probably cost more than Louis’ whole outfit put together.

It doesn’t take long before the daybed is set up and they’ve put up the deck chairs outside and are back downstairs. They’re both a little exhausted, but before Louis can even talk about leaving, Harry’s offering him lunch. “I make killer fajitas and the kitchen’s all stocked up.”

“You sure? I should probably be getting back,” Louis tries, but Harry’s grabbing his wrist and pulling him through a second door, which does lead to a very nice kitchen. Louis wonders if there’s anything not fancy on this ship, not excluding Harry’s worn boots because he most likely bought them like that.

Louis takes a seat on the island, swinging his feet a little as he says, “I’m shit at cooking, honestly. You’ll have to do this one all on your own.”

Harry smiles even wider, rocking back and forth on his feet while rubbing his hands together. “That’s fine with me. You can watch. Maybe you can set the table up and pick out some wine, too.”

Louis shrugs. “Alright then. You got a fancy wine cellar, too?”

Louis was joking, he swears, but it turns out there actually _is_ a fancy wine cellar. It’s sectioned off from the pantry, and Louis takes a minute or two to take some picture of all the bottles to send them to Liam, adding, _free wine outta this and none for you haha xx_. He ends up picking a white wine, liking the different green patterns on the label, and when he walks back out Harry compliments him on his choice.

It takes a bit longer for Harry to finish everything, but Louis doesn’t mind. He likes sitting there, watching Harry cook from behind. Maybe it has to do with the fact that Harry is actually quite beautiful—his legs go on forever, Louis wouldn’t mind throwing them over his shoulders, and he’s got the nicest little bum which Louis just wants to bite—but maybe it also has to do with the fact that Louis is getting free lunch out of this, lunch that smells absolutely amazing.

As it turns out, it tastes even better than it smells, and Louis can’t help the little sound that falls from his lips from the first bite. “Harry, this is amazing,” he says, trying not to let his voice sound so moan-y. They’re sitting on the deck chairs on the higher deck, looking out at the dock. Louis can see the fishing docks from here, just barely being able to make out Larry’s boat.

When he looks back over after stuffing his mouth with another bite, Harry’s face is completely red and he’s staring at his own food, lips quirked a little. “Thanks,” he says, and Louis wonders why Harry seems shy all of a sudden, when half an hour ago he was gushing about how amazing his food is. Louis doesn’t call Harry out on it though, just offers him a smile when he looks up.

They eat in silence for a little while. It’s nice, Louis thinks, sitting here with Harry like this. He wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime, but then he reprimands himself for it, remembering that, yeah, this is nice, and maybe Harry thinks it is too, but it’s not like they’d ever do this again anyway. Harry needed Louis’ help and offered to make him lunch afterwards. That’s all.

Harry speaks up then, startling Louis a bit. “Dad was going to give this to my sister,” he starts, “for her birthday last year, but she ended up buying one for herself before he could. I wasn’t really expecting it—I’ve never been big into the whole sailing thing, but then I went on this private cruise with mum and her sister over wither hols and ever since I’ve been dying to come out here.”

Louis doesn’t know what to say to that—he’s never gotten a _gift_ like this, and he’s always been interested in the nautical life—but he doesn’t have to. “I can’t wait ‘til all the remodelling is done so I can finally take it out. Haven’t picked a name for him though, and dad never had one. I was thinking about Jimmy... You don’t think it’s weird that my boat’s a boy, right?”

With a small smile, Louis answers, “Not at all. My granddad’s boat was a boy. Stereotypes are shit sometimes. Also, Jimmy is not a boat name, not even a yacht name. You have to have something fancy, like, Sir Wellington the Third, or something like that,” Louis inputs.

Harry frowns a little, though he looks amused as he says, “Why does it have to be something fancy? Yachts can have plain names, too.”

“Jimmy is more of an SUV name, or maybe a lorry, but not a boat. Pick something like Harvey or Alberto or William.” Louis’ grandpa’s boat’s name was Harvey, before his grandma scrapped it, not wanting any other person’s to use it. Louis remembers running around school, telling all his friends about Harvey and how he got to go out on the water in him again. He smiles at the thought.

“I like William,” Harry eventually says, making Louis choke on his wine a little. Harry looks worried after Louis manages to swallow correctly and cough out the pain, asking, “Y’alright?”

“Fine,” he answers a little hoarsely.

Harry raises an eyebrow at Louis, then asks, “Should I not name him William, then?”

“No, no, you can,” answers Louis quickly, hoping to high heavens that Harry never asks for his middle name. He wouldn’t want to be caught talking Harry into naming his yacht after him. “Wine went down the wrong way, ‘s all.”

“Oh.” Harry still looks at Louis sceptically for a second, but then seems to think better of himself, shrugging and turning back to his food. “Alright then. William it is. Gemma will like that name.”

Louis smirks, not having the guts to tell Harry why he’s so smug.

“Gemma?”

“My sister,” Harry answers with a smile, pulling out his phone. The next thing Louis knows it’s being shoved in his face, a very beautiful woman with long, purple hair as the lock screen. “She said she’d be coming out sometime in a couple weeks.”

Louis nods along, then hands the phone back, saying, “She’s very pretty. If I swung that way, I’d ask if she’s single,” he adds on in a kidding tone.

Harry rolls his eyes but he looks amused, finishing off his own plate and offering to take Louis’ (who finished a few minutes ago). “I can take that to the kitchen.” Louis hands off his dishes, stretching and getting up to follow Harry back inside and downstairs. He stays out in the den while he’s waiting, walking over behind the bar to see what all Harry has.

There’s not much, he notes, but there is a bottle of Jack Daniels that he thinks about swiping. Louis pushes those thoughts away as Harry comes back out, walking back out and towards the door. “I should probably get going now,” he starts, hand on the door handle. “Can’t be gone too long.”

Harry runs over, and it’s then that Louis notices the wallet in his hand. “Oh, no.” His fingers wrap around Harry’s wrist, stopping him from reaching in his wallet. “You fed me, that’s pay enough.”

Harry doesn’t listen though, shaking Louis’ hand off his wrist and taking a couple of notes out of his wallet. He’s not even looking at them, just shoves them in Louis’ hand with a, “Thanks for helping, Louis. Hope I get to see you around some more.”

He smiles, teeth and all, then turns and walks away, keeps walking, goes through the third door that Louis knows is up to the cabin. He just leaves Louis there alone, not even seeming to care that all this valuable stuff is in the hands of a near stranger. Louis rolls his eyes at that; it’s typical of a well endowed person like Harry to not even care if Louis does steal something.

With a huff, and while mentally reprimanding himself for spending so much time with Harry, Louis walks himself out and back onto the dock, not even caring that he can feel Harry’s eyes on him from up in the cabin. He keeps forward, walking until he gets down to where he usually sits, and only then does he realise he doesn’t have his phone on him.

Well shit.

-

Louis doesn’t even bother going back for his phone. He sets up his little station at the entrance to the dock easily enough, and doesn’t see Harry the rest of the time he’s there. By the time Liam comes to replace him, Louis has a fair amount of tips from the day’s work and the promise of a free pint later when Liam’s off.

He stops by the show shop that he’s always favoured, long overdue for some new boots, and then he stops by his favourite bakery that his grandma always used to bring him to.

By the time he’s finally home, it’s nearing dinner time so Louis puts the cookies and fresh bread he got in the pantry and calls out, “What’s for dinner?”

Niall’s reply comes a second later, loud but a little odd, “Was gonna get some Chinese!” He’s sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, Xbox controller in one hand and the other arm almost elbow-deep in a Doritos bag, mouth full. No surprise there, Louis thinks as he sits next to the Irish man. “That alright? Too lazy to cook right now,” Niall continues a second later.

“Fine with me. Just don’t forget my Crab Rangoon this time.” Louis steals the Doritos from Niall, then remembers that they’re going out later, says, “And don’t get too much because we’re going out to the pub later with Liam and we all know you’ll want to eat there too.”

“Right, got it.” Niall hands his controller over so Louis can take over. A few minutes later he’s walking back in with a couple of the cookies Louis just bought in hand, handing one over as he takes his controller back. “Ordered extra Rangoon. Might want some tomorrow for lunch.”

Louis sits there and watches Niall play for a couple minutes, but he gets bored pretty fast without his phone so it makes sense that he eventually sulks off to his room, desperate for his laptop—or _something_ to do that isn’t listen to Niall yell dickhead over and over again into his earpiece.

By the time Niall pops his head in and says Liam is here, Louis’ gone through almost three episodes of One Tree Hill and his bum is going a bit numb from sitting on his desk chair for so long. He dresses quickly, making sure to wear his new boots so he can show them off, and then the three of them head off to the pub they’re fond of.

Half way through Niall’s story of the flirty waiter he’d encountered while out with his brother earlier today, Liam’s phone started ringing and he quickly answered it, holding a finger up to Louis and Niall. Louis contemplates yelling out the stupidest shit, knowing it has to be the boy Liam’s been obsessed with recently, but decides against it last second as he pulls Niall forward a few steps.

“We’re getting him drunk tonight,” Louis says, peeking behind himself to make sure that, yes, Liam is still engrossed in his phone conversation, walking even slower than before. “And then we’re going to make him tell us who this bloke is and why the fuck Liam’s keeping him a secret. You in?”

“Good thing it’s Friday. We can all get drunk off our faces. After getting all the juicy details from Liam, of course,” he adds after Louis glares at him a little. Niall pats Louis’ shoulder, linking their arms together as he pulls Louis to speed up their walking, Liam even further behind now. “Maybe,” he whispers, “We can sneak his phone off him and invite the bloke out. Then we’ll finally get to meet him.”

“You are a menace,” Louis says through a huge smile, snaking his arm around Niall’s shoulders instead and giving him a side hug. “I knew I roomed with you for a reason.”

Niall scoffs at that but he’s smiling too, blond tips of his hair falling into his face. “You roomed with me because of the newspaper ad, you tit,” is Niall’s reply, though he doesn’t let Louis pull away from their hug/cuddle thing.

He’s right, too. Louis might not have met Niall if it weren’t for the ad Niall put in the newspaper when Louis first moved here. And because Louis couldn’t find a place to live besides his car, he was desperate enough to actually look in the damn paper even though it was going out of business.

Years later here they are, the best of friends and saving up for a better flat. The one they’re in now is fine, but their lease is up in five months and they really don’t feel like renewing it. After a couple of drunken nights together and then an actual lunch of planning, they started looking around and are on three separate waiting lists for some nicer flat buildings closer to town that’s not too much, especially when split.

They’re hoping a two bedroom, maybe even three, if they’re lucky, opens up here soon. They already have enough saved for a down payment and two month’s rent, which is very nice. It’s nice, Louis thinks, doing grownup stuff like moving into a better (non-university student equivalent) flat with Niall. If only he and Niall felt anything more towards each other than brotherly love, they’d be the perfect couple.

(They actually have been mistaken as a couple, multiple times before. It’s amusing, at the most, and they both get to laugh their faces off when it happens).

By the time the three are stumbling into the pub, Liam’s finally putting his phone away, claiming he’ll go get the first round. “We’ll get the table,” Louis says back, pulling Niall with him over to where they usually sit, a booth closer to the back where the deserted pool tables are. “Think we’ll actually play a round this time?” he asks as they sit.

Niall snorts, causing Louis to snicker a little too. Louis picked up a pool stick once, when a drunk guy dropped it and it rolled near their table, to give it back, but he’s never actually played. Not here, anyway. He’s tried a few times when he and Niall were both pissed, but it’s never actually happened, and he knows it probably won’t.

Liam comes back with a large pitcher and three glasses. Louis pours himself a drink first, gulping half of his down right away and flipping Niall off when he whistles. “Shut up. I deserve this after today.” He sends a little glare at Liam, who actually frowns.

“I’m sorry, Lou. You know I’m not doing this on purpose.” He genuinely sounds sorry and concerned.

Louis won’t have it. “Shut up,” he says, waving a hand in Liam’s direction. “When do you ever get yourself a boyfriend, let alone one you actually like enough to beg off of work for? I don’t care, Liam. I just like to complain a lot. You know this.”

“Louis’ right,” Niall jumps in, nodding his head at Liam and smiling at him. “You deserve this. He just likes being a right twat about it.”

Louis almost snaps at Niall for calling him a twat, but says instead, “Besides. I got free lunch, which was absolutely delicious, and wine and plenty of tips today. I don’t really mind.”

“Absolutely delicious, huh?”

Louis sighs, not even having to look up to know who it is. After spending a couple hours with him today, Louis knows that voice. Niall and Liam are both looking up though, so Louis does too, seeing those long curls have been pulled up into a bun, Harry now wearing a sheer black shirt. Louis tears his eyes away from what must be tattoos and his nipples, meeting Harry’s eyes with a put upon frown. “Nope. Worst fajitas ever.”

Harry only smiles wider at that, rolling his eyes, but there’s a flush on his cheeks that wasn’t there before, which means it’s definitely not from alcohol. “Whatever. Are you gonna introduce me to your friends?”

“I’m Niall,” Niall says, thrusting his hand out to shake Harry’s eagerly.

“Harry,” he replies, falling in the booth next to Louis without even asking. “And I already know who you are, Liam. Met him earlier today after you left,” Harry elaborates to Louis. The next thing Louis knows his phone is on the table next to his glass, Harry continuing, “Y’left this earlier.”

“Thanks.”

Louis has barely any time to pick his phone up to see if it’s dead—it is—before Niall’s asking Harry about himself, already making friends with him. Stuck between Harry and the wall (though he doesn’t mind that part very much because Harry smells really good), Louis only barely manages to repress a grumble. He’d like to go ask Cheryl, the bartender, if she has an extra charger he could use, and maybe he’d like to buy a stronger drink, but as it is, he has to (gets to) stay here with his thigh pressed against Harry’s and listen to Harry and Niall talk about whatever, Liam already distracted by his phone again.

It’s not so bad, he reasons with himself, since Harry does smell nice and his laugh is really cute. He’ll manage another pour from the pitcher before claiming he has to pee, and all will be good.

-

They don’t get Liam drunk but they do manage to wiggle a name out of him—Zayn, is what he had said, Louis remembers as he’s brushing his teeth. Now all he has to do is beg Liam to let them meet this Zayn until he finally relents.

Harry left about half an hour after his arrival, claiming to have an early morning breakfast with his parents in whatever city. Louis doesn’t have to think too hard about the fact that Harry can just fly himself anywhere without problem, even if only for a breakfast, before his stomach starts turning a little more than it already was.

He’s quick to push all those thoughts away and crawl into bed, phone on the charger and playing his Spotify on shuffle.

-

Thankfully, he gets the weekend off. Liam said something about Zayn being out of town, so Louis gets to spend a couple of hours catching up with the men down at the fishing docks, then spends the rest of the day calling and face timing his family. On Sunday he does absolutely nothing, ordering in and lazing around all day.

It’s a nice weekend, and Louis gets to catch up with Larry on Monday.

But, yet again, Liam calls him Monday night and asks Louis to take over for him in the morning. Louis doesn’t even complain, just tells Liam to have fun with Zayn (and, yet again, begs fruitlessly about when he’ll finally get to meet the bloke), before getting ready.

Niall is still snoring in his room when Louis passes by, so he toasts himself some bread and quickly makes himself some tea, then heads out, hoping to get there before the sun starts rising.

There’s a couple of people down at the end of the docks cleaning, probably from an all night party out on the water, but otherwise it’s quiet save for the birds, water calm and still. Louis watches the sunrise while eating his breakfast and drinking his tea, content. It’s a nice enough start to the day that he doesn’t complain, not even in his head, when someone tells him someone left a bunch of empty beer cans at the end of the dock and asks him to clean them up.

It’s when he’s walking back from the dumpster that he sees Harry sitting in his chair again, all cosy in a beanie and trackies, and holding two cups of steaming coffee. “Here,” is all he says as he hands over one of the cups.

“Thank you,” Louis says back quietly. The cup warms Louis’ hands, and he’s so thankful that he sits on the dock next to Harry, rather than demanding his chair back. He has no idea why Harry’s here, rather than down on his beautiful boat, but Louis finds himself not minding. It’s nice, actually, just sitting here, enjoying each other’s company in silence.

Louis should probably go down and help the small crew cleaning up the night-party yacht, but he has warm coffee in his hands and a smiley boy next to him, so he stays put for now.

Work can wait for a few minutes.

-

Harry says the paint is running late and won’t be in until the next day, and that he doesn’t feel like going back home, which is why he’s been trailing Louis for the last couple of hours. Louis doesn’t mind as much as he thinks he should, since Harry is nice and tells the dumbest jokes that still make Louis laugh. They get a few odd looks here and there, since usually it’s just one person helping someone back their boat up into their spot or clean up the dock.

At one point, Harry offers to buy lunch for the two of them while Louis is busy mopping up yet another bird shit covered deck. He’s too concentrated on not smearing the shit and making the yacht owners even angrier that he doesn’t realise what he’s agreed to until fifteen minutes later, when he’s walking back up to the entrance to the docks and he sees Harry already sitting there with some coffee cups and takeout bags.

There’s a voice in the back of his mind telling him he shouldn’t be letting Harry hang out with him so much like this, shouldn’t let Harry buy him food, but he stamps that voice down. Free food and decent company is something Louis won’t turn down, even though he shouldn’t be letting himself get to know Harry.

There’s a whole week where Louis doesn’t see Harry because Liam actually decides to get up on time in the mornings to do his own job. It’s nice, catching up with his friends he hasn’t been able to talk to in a while, as well as coming home smelling like the day’s catch and irritating Niall with the fishy aroma. But after Louis buys himself old lunch sandwiches from the nearest Tesco four days in a row, he starts actually missing the curly haired lad and not only his cooking, but his good taste in takeout food too.

Louis finds it frustrating how easily he’s come to thinking about Harry, _missing_ Harry, and his stupid jokes and always-optimistic attitude all the time.

Which is why it comes as no surprise that Louis jumps on the opportunity when Liam texts him to cover one Friday morning. Which is to say he doesn’t text any type of complaint back—he doesn’t text back at all, actually, probably a bit too eager to get in the shower.

He barely makes it out the door with his breakfast in one hand and his boots in the other, fresh-washed hair still matted to his forehead, barely remembered phone buzzing in his back pocket. After getting in his car, stuffing half of the piece of toast in his mouth, and shoving his feet in his boots, Louis answers the phone to his mum’s voice saying his name.

“Hey mum,” he greets back around the mouthful of food, putting his seatbelt on and pulling out of the small parking lot.

“Are you eating, love? Did I catch you at a bad time?” her worried voice carries over the line, making Louis chuckle as he swallows the bite and avoids a water-filled pothole he’s driven by millions of times.

He answers, “Just on my way to work, mum. Why are you up so early? I don’t even think Lotts gets up the time of the morning for school.”

“Oh! No, she isn’t.  Dory woke up because of the thunder storm. She woke Ernie up, and I just got them back to sleep.”

Louis nods even though he knows his mum can’t see him. He misses Doris and Ernest, hasn’t seen them or Daisy and Phoebe since Christmas, which was almost seven months ago. Félicité and Charlotte both came to stay at Louis’ for a weekend in March, but that’s about it. He feels bad, sometimes, for not being able to visit home as often as he’d like, as often as he knows his siblings would like.

“I just wanted to let you know that Daniel and I and the girls all planning on driving over for your grandparent’s anniversary in August. We’re just wanting a family lunch type thing at that park granddad always used to take you to, then we’ll maybe visit their graves for a little bit. You can invite Niall, and—who’s your other friend you’re always talking about?”

“Liam,” Louis answers, head shaking, smile fond. His mother has always known how to talk someone’s head off without actually boring them. Louis loves that about her… most of the time. “But he’s got some new boyfriend or something that he’s always busy with, so I’m not entirely sure how free he’ll be this summer. Though Niall will definitely come—you know how much he loves your cooking.”

As his mother starts talking about how much she misses Niall and how great it is that Liam has a boyfriend, and eventually the details of their road trip here to Crimbleton Cove, Louis pulls into an empty parking space behind the bait shop (the owner doesn’t care that Louis parks here, since his dad was best friends with Louis’ granddad). After lacing up his boots, practically inhaling the rest of his food, and grabbing his foldout chair from the boot, Louis starts making his way down to the docks.

The sun is just starting to come up, the light purple-blue sky mixing with darker pinks and oranges and still dotted with clouds from last night’s rain, and Louis puts his mum on speakerphone to take a picture of it all to send to Niall.

“… been taking Ernie and Dory on longer car rides here and there. Hopefully we can get them better used to the car by the time we drive there. Don’t know how well they’ll take to being in the van for three hours.”

“Is Lotts driving her car then?” asks Louis, unfolding his chair and settling in it, trying not to shiver from the slightly chilly winds coming off the ocean. “Don’t see how you’ll fit everybody in that van if not.”

“You know she is. We wouldn’t survive—” Just then, the sound of a shrieking baby filters over the line and Louis almost winces for his mother, knowing how exhausting it can be to take care of nine month olds that hate almost everything outside of the house. “Thunder’s starting up again,” she sighs, “I’d better go then. Keep a look out, I might be calling later on during my lunch break.”

“Will do, mum. Give Ernie and Dory big kisses for me yeah?” She agrees easily, and Louis can hear it when she finally enters the babies’ room. “Love you, mum. Don’t work yourself too hard.”

She chuckles like Louis’ crazy for insinuating something like that, even though literally everyone and their mother knows that she overworks herself all the time—then says her own goodbyes. Not twenty seconds later and Louis’ phone is buzzing with messages, which just so happens to be pictures of his youngest twin siblings, both sitting up in their own cribs and looking up at the camera with wet, puffy eyes. Louis coos, before having to put his phone away at the sound of footsteps coming up the dock behind him.

When he’s met with bright eyes and long, curly locks, Louis can’t help the smile he sports. “Hey Lou,” Harry greets, walking closer. His smile is too big for this time of the morning—Louis still feels like he could fall asleep any second, if he let himself. Knowing that Harry is happy morning person makes Louis frown, though.

“Too early for good attitudes,” he says in lieu of a greeting, staring up at the tall monstrosity standing before him in entirely too tight pants and a half-buttoned shirt with at least six different patterns just on the front. “You look ridiculous, you know?” he adds just to be an arse.

Harry just shrugs, plopping down next to Louis, sitting with his legs crossed. He has no chair but he doesn’t seem to mind, just shrugs, saying, “I like this shirt. And I’ve been up for a couple hours now, so I’m not tired anymore.”

Louis forces himself to not roll his eyes, instead he curiously asks, “Why’ve you been up so long?”

Harry hesitates, lips slipping into a small frown. Before Louis can tell Harry that he doesn’t have to answer and that he’s sorry for asking, Harry scratches the inside of his wrist and says, “Had a bit of a nightmare and couldn’t fall back asleep, so I went for a jog. I came up here after to put the dust sheets over everything so I can put another coat of paint on the walls.”

He’s back to smiling now, mumbling something about the paint, so Louis doesn’t worry too much about pushing. He crosses his legs, settling his chin on his hand to prop it up, then looks back out over the water.

“Liam sleep in this morning? He said he had a date with Zayn yesterday, so I kind of figured…”

“I guess.” Louis pulls out his phone to forward the pictures of his siblings to Niall and Liam, then continues with a shrug, “He doesn’t tell me much about this secret Zayn he’s always sneaking off to see, so I wouldn’t know.”

“You mean you haven’t met Zayn yet? He’s so cool. Quiet, when you first meet him, but after a while he opened up and he’s really funny. He’s got some sick tattoos too and the face of an angel, I swear. Liam’s found himself a keeper, I tell you.”

Harry doesn’t even seem to notice Louis gaping at him until after his little ramble, and when he does his own eyes go big a little bit, then curious. Louis just shakes his head, blinking a little. Harry met Zayn… before Louis or Niall? What. The. Fuck.

“Can’t believe you’ve met him when the only thing Niall and I know is his bloody name,” he mumbles, while typing a bunch of curse words and angry emojis in a text to Liam. He also sends a text full of exclamation points, then goes on a small rant to Niall about how Harry’s actually _met_ the bloke, blah blah blah. Louis doesn’t register Harry’s talking for a while, not until Harry’s warm, big hand is on his knee and shaking him a little.

Still caught up in ranting to Niall, it takes a second to realise what’s going on. Louis has to tear his eyes away from where Harry’s hand is gripping his knee, warmth seeping through Louis’ jeans and right to his skin. “Sorry, what?” he says finally, blinking a little a Harry to make him less blurry.

“I was just saying that Zayn came to bring an early lunch to Liam the day I got the paint in. Liam was helping me paint and convinced Zayn to stay, since Zayn is apparently this amazing artist—which he is, by the way. They kicked me out of my own bedroom on the yacht for a couple hours and when I came back there was a whole mural of the sea with the moon going down and stars and everything—it was beautiful.

“Anyway. Yeah. He helped paint and I made some pizza for them after. They both helped clean up and everything. And Zayn is so nice.” Harry bites his lip, eyes turning hesitant. His fingers squeeze Louis’ knee before finally pulling away, then he continues, “After Zayn left to go to work, Liam helped pick up all the dust sheets and he told me he’s… Well. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but he said he’s scared you and Niall won’t like Zayn. He didn’t say much else and I wasn’t gonna force him to, but, yeah…”

Harry’s not even finished talking but Louis’ already sent a heart emoji to Liam. Fuck. Louis knows exactly why Liam is worried about their approval too. “Niall and I hated his last boyfriend but Liam wouldn’t listen to us. The guy ended up screwing Liam over majorly and he hasn’t been with anybody since… That was forever ago, when I first moved here. Fuck, Harry. I’ve been bugging him and yelling at him about when he’s gonna let us meet Zayn. I didn’t know he was this serious about wanting us to like Zayn.”

“Come on, Lou. You didn’t know.” Harry puts his hand on Louis’ knee again, squeezing, and Louis doesn’t realize he’s put his own hand over Harry’s until after he’s sent a heart emoji to Liam and _nevermind_ to Niall.

“I know,” he sighs, slowly taking his hand back, not looking up. “I know,” he whispers.

“Excuse me.” Louis looks up at the new voice, recognising the face of the older man he’s helped a couple times before. He’s the same man Louis was helping the day he met Harry. “My wife is visiting her parents today and I need help steering out of the dock.”

Harry stands at the same time as Louis, looking a bit eager, while the grey haired man just looks confused. “Harry, it’s fine. Stay here,” Louis insists quietly, “Watch my stuff.”

Harry frowns but he nods, taking Louis’ seat after Louis steps away to start following the man. The man starts talking about how he’ll need help when he gets back and that Louis will need to keep an eye out for him, that it’ll only be a few hours, since he wanted some time away to do work—or something. Louis only pays attention to the important parts.

The man tips him more generously than last time and even cracks a smile or two. The work is a little soothing, keeps Louis’ mind busy for a little while. He doesn’t even remember his and Harry’s conversation as he’s walking back down the dock, pocketing his coffee money. He’s confused when he gets back though, because now Liam is here too.

“Li,” Louis says once he’s within hearing shot.

Liam and Harry both look up, but Harry stays seated in Louis’ chair as Liam stands. Louis doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of Liam, hugging him close, and he might be mumbling _sorry_ into Liam’s shoulder, but he knows he’s too quiet for Liam to make out what he’s actually saying. Louis can practically hear the concern streaming out of Liam’s ears as he hugs back, can feel Liam’s worried eyes without having to look.

“Lou?” whispers Liam, holding Louis closer than Louis’ probably holding him. Louis understands that he’s been acting weirder than he normally does all morning, what with not answering Liam this morning, but then sending him a few normal texts followed by a not so normal text just a bit ago. And he has no idea why either, Louis thinks to himself a bit sadly.

“Sorry,” he apologises, for a lot more than just the odd behaviour this morning. But he doesn’t say the last part out loud, instead finally pulling back after mentally checking that he’s not tearing up or anything. He sees that Harry’s turned away, respectively, but when Louis says his name, arm still around Liam’s hips, Harry quickly turns back.

“It’s alright, I can go,” he says after two seconds of eye contact with Louis, who’s very grateful. Liam is quiet while Harry starts walking down the dock, presumably to his boat. But Harry turns back at the last second to say, “Come by for lunch, if you want. Both of you.”

“We will,” Louis answers, and then after remembering, “And we’ll help with seconds coats too, if you’d like.”

Harry beams at that, then he starts walking away again.

Louis waits until he can’t see Harry anymore before sighing and plopping down in his chair, hands rubbing over his eyes. While he knows he needs to do this, to talk to Liam and apologise for real, he also kind of wants to crawl back home and stay in his bed for the rest of the week to mentally prepare himself, maybe give himself a little more time to think up a proper speech.

As it is, Liam’s staring down at him, concerned, and Louis sighs again, knowing it’s now or never. “You know I love you, right?” he starts with, hearing Liam sit down on the dock in front of him.

“Yeah, I know. I love you too.” Liam squeezes Louis’ ankle, frowning a little now—which, not what Louis was wanting at all. Fuck. “I love you too, Lou. But what’s all this about? You’re scaring me a little.”

“I’m sorry me and Niall give you so much shit about Zayn.” Before Liam can cut in like Louis knows he was going to, Louis continues, “We do, don’t deny it. We tease you about the sleep you aren’t getting and the marks you _are_ getting, and we bug you all the time about meeting him and get mad when you don’t let us. Which, you know, sounds like any normal best friend’s job when it comes to thing like this, but. Fuck.”

Shaking his head, Louis rubs his eyes again, taking deep breaths and calming a little at the fresh smell of the sea. This is harder than he thought it would be, and Liam, bless him, stays quiet, lets Louis take the time he needs to sort his words out. “You have every right to be mad at us for bugging the shit out of you. And Niall’s not here but I know he’d be sorry as fuck too if he knew.”

“Louis,” Liam finally speaks up, quieter, and there’s a certain lilt to his voice that Louis knows means he’s catching on, even if a little slowly. “You and Niall annoy me just as much as you normally do. And Niall and I annoy you whenever you admit that you like someone, and you and I to Niall too. Why are you all of a sudden so sorry about all that now?”

“Because we fucking _hated_ your last boyfriend when I first moved here forever ago, and we were right about him being an arse, and you told Harry you’re scared we won’t like Zayn!” Louis blurts, hand tangling in his hair. “You don’t have to act dumb— _I know_ , okay. Harry said that he met Zayn and I got upset and texted you all the shit but then Harry told me what you two talked about and that’s why I sent the heart.

“We didn’t know you were so worried about that. Even though I should’ve known. It’s been so long since you’ve shown an interest in someone—since Douchebag. And Niall and I sometimes complain to each other about you not letting us meet Zayn, but I understand now, I do, Liam. I’m sorry we’ve been such annoying dicks about him, we both are. He’s really important to you, I see that now. I don’t care how long it takes for you to feel comfortable enough to introduce him to us. You take as long as you need; I won’t bug you about it anymore.”

“Neither of us will.” Niall’s there, Louis sees after looking up, sitting down next to Liam and throwing an arm over his shoulders, looking sorry himself too. “I came as soon as you texted never mind,” he says to Louis, pulling Liam even closer.

Louis watches silently as Liam stares down at the hands in his lap, and maybe they shouldn’t be having serious talks like this on the dock, while Louis’ at _work_ no less, but here they are. Louis doesn’t know about Liam, and especially not Niall, but he himself feels a bit calmer here and there at the sounds of the water, the smells, and the way it moves the dock a little. He’s always felt calmer near the water.

Though it doesn’t help too much, especially after Liam’s been quiet for a little longer than Louis hoped. He’s getting more anxious now, shifting a little and biting lips almost raw.

Finally, when Liam does look up, he’s smiling, head pressing to Niall’s shoulder and hand squeezing Louis’ ankle briefly before he starts. “I just want you to like him, because I really do. Your approval really does mean a lot to me… Thank you for saying sorry, and it would be nice if you two toned it down a bit until you meet him, but please don’t tear yourselves up over this. I didn’t tell you how much he means to me and how much I want you guys to like him, which I should’ve because you guys need to know that.”

“Li—”

“Just.” Liam sighs, and he’s really smiling now. It’s a bit odd, but Louis doesn’t ask, instead stays quiet, like Niall, waiting. “Promise you’ll at least act civil around Zayn if you don’t like him, please.”

“We’re not animals, Liam. Even if we don’t like him, we aren’t going to treat him like shit like we did Douchebag,” Niall says reassuringly, Louis smiling and nodding along.

 Standing, Louis and Niall following, Liam says, “Thank you guys. I won’t get all sappy but I love you both. A lot.” He pulls the other two in for a group hug, all three laughing a little, separating quicker than Louis would’ve liked, but he doesn’t complain since he knows Niall can get claustrophobic sometimes. “Also,” Liam adds before Louis can take another step down the dock. “Don’t look now, but that’s kind of him.”

Louis looks to where he’s pointing, not caring that he’s blatantly staring at the dark haired boy walking up. His jaw is sharp, dusted with stubble, not unlike how Liam has his sometimes, and he’s smiling as he walks right up to Liam and hugs him. Liam’s smiling too, burying his face in Zayn’s neck and staying there for a few long moments. He’s not at all what Louis was expecting, though he guesses he never really tried to imagine anyway.

When he looks up again, Niall is grabbing his arm and pulling him down the dock. “Let’s go,” he whispers, “Lunch is waiting. And Harry too.”

Louis follows easily enough, smiling when he can smell whatever delicious food Harry made from the open doors after stepping down on the main deck. “Smells good!” he yells out once they step inside. Harry walks out of the kitchen a few seconds later, smile wide, holding trays of food that Louis rushes forward to help him carry.

“Thanks,” Harry replies. He nods to Niall, then back at the kitchen door, and says, “There’s one more in there, if you want to grab it.”

“Sure thing.” Niall runs off.

Louis follows Harry over behind the bar, setting the trays next to where Harry set his down. It all looks delicious, and Louis can’t wait to eat, but he knows they need to wait for Liam and Zayn to actually get in here. “Did you know Zayn was coming?” he asks, watching—specifically the way those long fingers wrap around near the base of the bottle easily—as Harry starts pouring some expensive red wine for the five of them.

“No.” Harry sneaks a glance up at Louis, lips quirking a little shyly. “Good thing I made enough for an army. Are you nervous? To finally meet him, I mean.”

The curls framing Harry’s face fall over his eyes as he looks down, and Louis has the sudden urge to reach out and tuck them behind Harry’s ears. He resists, though, knowing that might possibly be a bit inappropriate at the moment. Instead, he answers, “Nah, not really. I just hope he’s as cool as you and Li say.”

“He really is,” insists Harry, handing a glass to Louis, then leaning his hip against the bar. He’s facing Louis now—he briefly wonders what’s taking Niall so long, as well as Liam and Zayn—and Louis’ eyes catch over a bruise on the inside of Harry’s wrist when Harry takes a drink.

“Y’alright there?” he asks, brushing his thumb over the mark without thinking. Harry’s breath catches, his eyes going wide and a little blank, staring at his own wrist. It’s the weirdest reaction; Louis tries not to look to far into it.

“Fine,” Harry manages to choke out, going redder than Louis’ ever seen, gulping. Louis chances a glance at Harry’s other wrist to see it’s clear as ever, save for the few bracelets hanging further up his arm. “Just. Hit it against the counter earlier, is all.”

Louis knows it’s a lie, not only because Harry’s the worst liar in the world, but also because Louis knows a small, thumb shaped bruise like that wouldn’t come from a counter. He can’t tell if he’s more intrigued or jealous, to be honest.

Niall comes in then, Louis looking away from the slightly intense staring contest he and Harry were having, and not a second later both Liam and Zayn are walking in too, hand in hand, Liam sliding the door shut behind himself. “Wine!” Niall crows, just barely setting the tray down before he’s gulping down half the glass right away.

“Told you he’s obsessed,” Liam says, nudging Zayn’s side as they walk up to stand next to Niall, across the bar from Louis and Harry.

“’M not obsessed,” Niall grumbles at the same time that Harry says, “Nice to see you again Zayn.”

“You too,” Zayn replies.

Zayn looks at Louis then, smiling, his arm coming around Liam’s waist. Liam’s smiling; Louis can see the concern in his eyes though, and since he doesn’t want Liam to worry any more than he already is, he slides one of the glasses across the bar, asks, “Are you gonna constantly give Liam shit for being a huge comic book nerd? Because only Niall and I are allowed to do that.”

Liam goes red, eyes glaring at Louis, but Zayn just scoffs as he takes out his phone. The lock screen is of Batman and Robin from the original TV show, Louis mentally scolding Liam because he should not know that. “I’m probably more of a nerd than him. We’ve already established that I have more comics than him and I’ve actually met Zoe Saldana.”

“Who’s that?” Harry asks while Louis drowns their conversation out to  stares at Zayn a bit, taking him in. He’s smiling, Liam is too, and they’re standing close. Liam looks so comfortable around him, which Louis likes. So far, Louis really likes the bloke, and he can tell Niall does too, which is definitely good.

Louis continues sipping on his wine, putting in a comment or two here and there. He only knows what Liam’s drilled into his head about comic books and superheroes and all that, so he really doesn’t have much to contribute to the conversation, for once.

Louis finds himself staring at Harry more times than not, specifically the bruise on his wrist. The rest of his wrist looks a bit tender all the way around as well, redder than the rest of his skin, and Louis wonders if his fingers would do that—make the sensitive skin red and even more sensitive, mark up the inside a little with his thumb, the other wrist matching as he—

“Lou!” Startled, Louis looks up to see everybody staring at him. Luckily he was staring at the counter so he couldn’t have been found out, and he rolls his eyes when Niall says his name again.

“I’m listening now, dimwit,” he barks. Niall flips him off, but Louis just rolls his eyes. He’s sucked into a conversation about whatever game was on last weekend that he missed—purposefully because he isn’t a big American Football fan, though he’d never admit that to Niall, and apparently Harry now, who are both oddly in to it—and it’s nice, eating and drinking sharing laughs, getting to know Liam’s boyfriend a little more.

He catches Harry staring at him a couple times, to which he bites his—no doubt already red from the win—lip, just to watch the way Harry blushes and looks away quickly.

They finish lunch relatively quickly, and since Liam says he can take over for Louis, Louis offers to stay behind and help with the dishes. Niall fucks off to god knows where, probably home, and Zayn leaves with Liam, claiming he has work, so it all clears out pretty fast.

Not that Louis minds, really. His belly is full and Harry keeps the wine out for them to continue sipping on while they conquer the dishes together. Harry puts his iPod on shuffle in the background, and it starts playing some Elvis songs that they both hum along to. They finish the dishes belting out Hound Dog, with smiles on their faces, and Louis ends up needing to borrow a t-shirt from Harry since his is soaking.

“Thanks for the t-shirt,” he says as he’s walking out, smiling down at Harry after stepping up on the dock. The shirt hangs just a little longer than Louis wears his own; Harry’s length is in his legs anyway. “I’ll bring it back tomorrow. Clean—I promise.”

“Alright. Whenever should be fine.”

Louis’ just about to take a step away when he remembers— “Hey, weren’t we supposed to help you paint? Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, that’s alright. They were all busy anyway.” Harry shrugs it off like it’s no big deal.

Louis has a feeling Harry is going to try and paint everything himself, and that won’t do at all. He ignores Harry’s protests as he’s stepping back on the yacht, walking past him and back inside. “I’m helping and you can’t stop me!” he yells over his shoulder.

A month ago he wouldn’t have even stepped foot on Harry’s yacht without the promise of a tip—which sounds bad, he knows—but now he’s forcing Harry to let him help paint. It’s a fast transition if Louis ever saw one.

He doesn’t care.

Harry has to lead him to the bedroom on the second floor, which is where he says they’re going to start, Louis switching back into soaking shirt. It won’t matter if there’s paint on it anyway, since it’s plain black. He ignores the way Harry’s staring at him while changing shirts, distracting him by asking loudly where the paint brushes are, Harry snapping out of it and running out of the room with a quick, “Be right back!”

Louis sighs to himself, sitting down on the edge of the tarp covered bed in wait. This is going to be a long afternoon.

-

He’s just settled down for a Criminal Minds marathon and maybe an early bedtime when Niall barges in his room, demanding he get dressed. “Preferably your black jeggings and a t-shirt dress.”

“They’re _just_ t-shirts, Niall,” Louis grumbles, probably for the millionth time. He hates when Niall and Liam call them t-shirt dresses, always correcting them, though as of late he’s been getting a bit tired of correcting them. Niall just shrugs, plopping down on the edge of Louis’ bed and tickling his feet. “Stop.” Louis kicks at him, setting his laptop aside and sitting up. “Where are we going anyway? I’m all comfy in my trackies and you’re making me put skinnies back on?”

Rolling his eyes, Niall gets up and walks over to Louis’ closet, pulling out the first jeggings and t-shirt he sees and throwing them on the bed. Louis grimaces at the choice—he never wears that shirt anymore unless it’s for bed; he would never wear it outside the flat. “We’re going out,” Niall states, “A new bar opened up downtown that turns into a club after ten, and their sign specifically says ‘Gender Doesn’t Matter’. We’re picking Liam and Zayn up from the docks.”

On one hand, Louis has Criminal Minds to binge watch and some salted caramel ice-cream, but on the other he could drink a little and go find himself a nice lad to dance with for the night, maybe even sneak him into the bathroom. It’s a harder decision than Louis wants to deal with right now, but he sucks it up, deciding Derek Morgan and his ice-cream can wait for later.

Niall smiles when Louis gets up, telling him to hurry because Zayn and Liam are already waiting. “Yeah yeah, get out. _I’ll hurry_.” After Niall leaves, Louis pushes the shirt in the back of his closet and finds a sheer, plain black shirt that would look much better, then gets dressed. He takes a minute to make sure his hair doesn’t look like shit and to make sure his stubble isn’t too crazy, puts on deodorant and a little cologne, then finds his keys, wallet, and phone.

Niall is waiting by the door, only looking up from his phone briefly so he can step through the door. “I’m driving but you still have to tell me where it is,” Louis states once they’re in the car, pulling out of the car park.

“Gotcha,” is all Niall says.

They’re quiet until they get to the dock. It’ll be dark soon, but it’s still light enough for Louis to see not two, but three people walking towards his car, one of which has long, curly hair. He almost groans. It’s not that he doesn’t want to spend the evening with Harry, he just doesn’t think he’d be able to handle seeing Harry drink and find someone to dance with that isn’t him. Harry isn’t the snobby, stuck up rich boy Louis thought he would be; he’s sweet and bubbly, and Louis actually likes him. He knows he’ll end up getting jealous.

“You coming with us?” Niall asks as he steps out of the car.

Louis stays put, fiddling with the radio station, then checking if he has any text messages, all while waiting for Niall’s little chat with the other three to get over. It doesn’t take too long, thankfully, but Harry takes Niall’s spot in the passenger seat, smile wide and eyes bright. He’s wearing the usual—skinnies that rival Louis’; a dark pink, floral patterned, short sleeved button up that’s only half way buttoned; and his Chelsea boots.

Louis tears his eyes away, mumbling a quick _hi_ to everybody that’s in the car now and starts up the car again, Niall barking out directions.

He’ll just have to drink at the bar and find himself someone to dance with as soon as he gets there, to distract him from Harry’s soft curls and softer skin and fuckable thighs. Even now he’s humming along to the song to keep his mind away from the thick thigh just a few inches from his hand on the gear stick.

“Lou?” Harry says, and fuck. So much for that.

“What?” He doesn’t mean for it to sound so harsh, so Louis smiles over at Harry.

Harry smiles back, saying, “You’re just a bit quiet, is all. Y’alright?”

Louis’ mind is brought back to him helping Harry paint a few days ago, when he stood up too fast he got dizzy and almost fell and Harry asked the same thing. “I’m fine, yeah. Just a bit tired, I guess.”

Harry opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, Niall’s yelling out to the whole car, “Who’s DD tonight?”

“Not you, obviously,” is Liam’s answer, “You never are.” Louis doesn’t have to look back to know Niall is smirking.

“I’m definitely drinking tonight,” Zayn says from where he’s sat behind Louis. Louis looks in the rear-view mirror to smile at him in greeting.

When it’s quiet for too long, Niall says, “I vote Louis. This is his car which he rarely lets anybody else drive.”

Louis is about to protest—he definitely wants to drink some whiskey, definitely wants to be at least a little drunk while dancing with a stranger. But, Niall is right in that Louis rarely lets anybody else drive his car. It’s nothing fancy, not at all, but Louis loves his car dearly; he’s only ever let Niall drive it, and Liam on the few occasions his own car wasn’t working.

“Me too,” Liam puts in.

Eventually, Louis sighs, grumbling, “Fine,” and staring out at the road with a frown. What the fuck ever. He can sneak back outside and watch Netflix on his phone or something.

 

Louis never gets a chance to sneak back outside, since after Zayn drags Liam off to the dance floor and Niall goes wherever, Harry stays at the table sipping on whatever bright pink drink he has and rambling about the new piano he just got in today. Apparently it’s a grand piano, made from some rare—and probably expensive—wood, and the stool matches perfectly, blah blah. Louis could be more interested, he really could, but he’s sipping on water and trying not to glare at both Niall dancing with some pretty girl and a guy (he thinks?) staring at Harry from the bar.

“Lou?” Harry’s voice brings Louis out of his thoughts, and when he looks back at Harry, the first thing he notices is how much pinker his lips are.

“What the hell are you drinking, H?” Louis spits, trying for a smile and missing by a mile. He’s just so pissed off—at everything. He can’t drink, he won’t dance without drinking, and Harry’s just sitting there, looking like the sexiest man alive that Louis can’t have. He grumbles to himself, arms crossed, shuffling so his numb thigh can relax.

Harry pushes his pink drink across the table, nudging Louis’ foot under the table. His eyes are soft, like he knows Louis is in a bad mood and is trying to cheer him up. Louis appreciates that, he really does, and he takes the drink to sniff at what’s left of it. It smells really fruity, not at all something Louis would drink unless he was already drunk, but he takes a small sip anyway before pushing it back across the table. The taste is too strong for him to notice the burn until after he’s swallowed.

“It’s okay.” He shrugs, trying not to stare too hard as Harry tips his head back to swallow down the rest of the drink. “I’m more of a Jack Daniels or Fireball man myself.”

“I drank a whole bottle of Fireball once. I was already drunk and my sister dared me too. I passed out after, apparently. Gemma still has pictures of the dicks she and her friend drew on my forehead.” Harry chuckles at himself, leaned back on his side of the booth with a fond smile on his face. Louis likes watching him remember things he’s done in the past, especially when they have to do with Gemma, because Harry always gets this fond expression and his smile is so soft. Harry sure can ramble, but when he gets passionate, Louis doesn’t mind at all.

“I’d love to see those, actually,” teases Louis, gulping down the rest of his water. “Your sister sounds like a right catch. I’d ask you to set me up with her, but I don’t swing that way.”

Harry’s face is even redder and he looks almost angry, for a second, before he manages to school his face to amusement. “You’re not her type anyway,” he says with a wave of his hand.

Raising his eyebrow, Louis leans back, stretching his arm across the back of the booth, and biting back a smirk when he notices Harry watching his movements. “I’m not her type, eh? Oh well, her brother’s cuter anyway.” Flirting never hurt anyone, right?

Harry’s cheeks flush even further, bottom lip caught between his cheeks as he stares down at the table. “You haven’t even met her. How would you know that?” he asks quietly, to which Louis rolls his eyes.

“I don’t have to meet her to know that.”

Harry stands from the table faster than Louis’ eyes can follow, mumbling that he’ll be right back. Louis is worried for the whole two seconds it takes for him to notice the smile tucked into the corners of his mouth, like he’s holding back a smile. Louis watches Harry walk away shamelessly, eyes locked on that cute arse in those tight skinnies.

Louis replies to a couple texts from Charlotte, but then Harry’s back and he’s drinking another bright drink, this time a neon blue. “You are crazy,” Louis ribs, head shaking.

“What?” Harry shrugs, drinking down some more of the no doubt fruity concoction that Louis almost grimaces at. “I like this,” Harry says.

“Each totheir own, I guess.”

“Are you okay Lou?” When Louis looks up, Harry’s eyebrows are furrowed and he’s frowning a bit, eyes full of concern. His drink is already gone, Louis notes. “You seem a bit off, is all.”

Louis is a bit off. He doesn’t want to be here, and sitting here alone with Harry is making him flirty and a bit frustrated because all he wants to do is dance with the lad. With a sigh, shoulders slumping, Louis stares down at his lap as he answers, “I don’t know. I’d rather not be here right now, but I have to drive the boys home so I can’t just leave, can I?”

“You could always leave and come back,” Harry suggests. He stands, then grabs Louis’ wrist and pulls him up too. “Come on. Just text Niall and Liam to call when they need us to come pick them up.”

“Where are we going?” Louis asks, a bit distracted by Harry’s warm fingers wrapped around his wrist, to distracted to notice Harry pulling him out of the club until they are outside in the slightly chilly air.

Harry drops his wrist once Louis falls into step next to him, but he walks close, their shoulders brushing. “I don’t know. Maybe we can go back to the docks and I can show you the new piano. I made these peanut butter and chocolate cupcakes earlier today, and I would love your opinion on them.”

“Sure, if you want,” Louis agrees easily, happy at the thought of free cupcakes and slightly amused that the way Harry is slightly slurring his words. Louis wonders if he’s a light weight, because he seems even more clumsy than usual, Louis having to reach out to steady him at least three times before they get back to Louis’ car.

He has to help Harry into the car too, but Louis doesn’t mind, not when Harry grabs his hand tight and smiles prettily up at him right before he shuts the passenger door. “So back to the docks?” Louis asks while starting the car.

Harry nods and starts fiddling with the radio, so Louis relaxes back into his seat as he squeezes his way into the slightly busy traffic. Harry sings along with some songs, smiling over at Louis, and he tells a story about how he tried playing a song on the piano that his nan taught him when he was younger. He’s so giggly and happy, and Louis’ smiling the whole drive to the docks.

Harry links their arms together as they are walking, the air chilly, night sky void of any clouds and showing off the sparkling stars. Louis pulls Harry close and drops his arm around his waist instead, revelling in Harry’s natural warmth.

He’s surprised, however, when Harry leads him right past his yacht and further down the dock. “Where are we going?” he asks quietly, squeezing Harry’s hip.

Harry keeps pulling him along, snuggling even further into Louis side, which Louis would be worried about how Harry’s acting right now, especially since he had so little to drink, but at the same time Harry is tucked into his side, warm and lovely, and Louis doesn’t have the guts to stop him. “You alright, love?” he asks when they get to the end of the docks, where the boats are few and far in between.

It’s clear on either side of them, in front of them too, and Harry pulls Louis down to sit with him at the edge with their legs dangling over the calm water. “’M fine, yeah. Just wanted to sit for a bit,” Harry answers eventually.

He’s still tucking himself into Louis’ side, so Louis tightens his arm around Harry’s waist, their sides pressed together, ankles colliding as they swing their feet. It’s calming, watching the slow water move below them, the moon bright above their heads. Louis breathes in the salty air, smiling at the familiarity of it all and turning his head slightly to press his cheek to Harry’s forehead.

“I always loved coming here with my granddad when I was younger. He did all the work around the docks before Niall came along, then I took over after him.” Louis finishes his little story with a happy sigh, smiling out at the emptiness in front of him. Just sky and water.

Harry sighs. When his hand falls to Louis’ thigh, Louis jumps a little. If Harry notices he doesn’t comment, just digs his thumb in a bit harder and saying, “I’ve only been out here a few times. Mum wasn’t really interested in the whole marine thing. She hates boats, so it was rare when Gemma and I would be able to come out. But I’ve always loved dad’s yacht. I want to live in it, but he says that’s not logical.”

Louis, confused, almost pulls away to look at Harry. But then Harry’s warm hand squeezes his thigh, and he stays as still as he can. He says, “Logical? Harry, I’m pretty sure you could live on that boat of yours for the rest of your life and not have any problems. It’s not like you’d run out of the money to do so or anything.”

“It’s not money that would be the problem,” replies Harry, sounding a bit stressed or annoyed. Louis just hopes it’s not at him. “Dad doesn’t want me to live in William because I wouldn’t be able to work. I’ve already agreed that I’ll move to a city that has a garage or two of his in it so I can own them and run them myself.”

“And there isn’t one here?”

“No. There’s at least four garages in Manchester, let alone London. There’s also one in Leeds, which is where he wants me to go,” Harry sighs again, and Louis squeezes his hip. “I want to open my own here in Crimbleton Cove. I’d like to be able to open it, own it, run it; all of that, all by myself. It won’t be with my own money, but I’ll still be doing all the work. I just don’t know if he’d agree to that or not.”

Louis presses his cheek to Harry’s forehead again, keeping his voice soft as he says, “Have you talked to him about it? I don’t think he’d be completely against the idea. Not from what you’ve told me, anyway.”

“I’ve hinted at it to Gemma before, but I think she thought I was joking. I haven’t even tried with mum, let alone dad. I just.” Harry’s shoulders slump even more, and Louis hums softly, hopefully encouragingly. “I want to carry on the business, I do, but I want to do it on my own, you know? I’d much rather start in a new city and work to make the business better, not just take over somewhere else. And I’m afraid that dad won’t be happy about that.”

Louis never expected Harry to open up like this before, especially to him when he hasn’t even talked about all of this with his sister. For all that Louis wants to kiss and maybe even wreck Harry a little, he wants to cuddle and smother Harry in affection just as much. Especially now. That may be overstepping the thin line just a little though, so Louis decides on the best words he can muster up at the moment.

“You have to tell him Harry,” he starts, “I know it’s hard. I had a full ride football scholarship to Manchester University but I turned it down to come here and take over after my granddad died. Mum was furious about that, me turning down the scholarship, but she got over it eventually. Maybe your dad won’t like it, but it’s your future, not his, and you are allowed to do with it what you will.

“Although, I have a hard time believing that your dad would not like this idea. You’ve told me so much about how your parents love and support you through everything you do. Even that photography stage you went through that cost a shit-ton and only lasted a couple of months.”

Harry’s gaping at him a little, having pulling away enough to look at Louis about half way through his speech. His pink tongue is trailing over his teeth; Louis forces himself to look back up into Harry’s eyes, which are sparkling a little. “You remember me telling you that?” Harry asks quietly, disbelief seeping through his voice.

“Of course,” Louis scoffs, patting Harry’s thigh and rolling his eyes with a smile. “You do talk some shit sometimes but I still pay attention. Even when there’s paint in my hair.”

Now Harry is smiling, bottom lip caught between his teeth, not saying anything. He’s probably not trying to, but the way his eyes are sparkling and how pink his lips are, he’s making Louis want to kiss him that much more.

But, that would be wrong, at least it would be right now.

“You need to tell him,” Louis continues, both to distract himself and to get them both on track. “Maybe try telling Gemma and your mum first. If they both agree to it, your dad won’t be able to say no. Maybe you could even get Gemma to come out and help you for the first few months. I’d love to meet her.”

Harry still doesn’t talk, and the emotion in his eyes is one Louis can’t place at the moment. “Haz?” whispers Louis softly, hand rubbing up and down the small of his back.

It’s then that he notices how close their faces are; Louis can feel Harry’s warm breath fanning across his face, and he unconsciously licks over his lips. He sees Harry’s eyes flit down to watch, and suddenly the idea of kissing those plump lips doesn’t seem to wrong at the moment.

Louis is about to lean in, hoping he isn’t reading this wrong, when Harry surges forward and suddenly their kissing. Harry’s hand is on his cheek, holding him close, and his soft lips give to Louis’ so easily. It’s light and almost innocent at first, in the best way, and Louis tilts his head to kiss Harry deeper, hand tight on Harry’s hip. Harry hums into the kiss, tongue venturing out just as Louis’ does, and then it’s hot and wet and Louis can’t get enough.

A couple of weeks ago he would’ve scoffed at the mere mention of kissing Harry. Now, though, he knows Harry; he knows how sweet Harry is, how much fun being around him is. He kisses back eagerly, swallowing Harry’s hums and keeping the man close.

They’re both breathing hard when Harry pulls back. Louis would like to continue kissing Harry, but Harry whispers, “Thank you,” so he stays quiet and still. “You just… Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, I guess.” Louis shrugs, smiling a little. “Was just trying to make you feel better.”

“Well it worked,” Harry replies, leaning forward so their faces are close again. He doesn’t kiss Louis though, just stays close, a small giggle falling from his smiling lips. “You’re a good kisser, you know that?”

Louis smirks, dipping forward to peck Harry quickly, happy with the giggle Harry lets out. “So I’ve been told,” he whispers.

“Lou.” Harry’s whisper almost sounds whiney, and then he’s surging forward and kissing Louis again, this time much more urgent from the start. Louis takes it in stride, coaxing Harry into a slower and deeper kiss that effects Louis a lot.

Heat curls in Louis’ stomach, lower too, and when Harry’s tongue pokes out to run along his own, Louis has to pull away for some much needed air. “Lou,” Harry whispers again, gasping when Louis starts pressing kisses up the side of his neck. Harry’s hand drops high on Louis’ thigh, close to his crotch.

Louis hopes Harry’s just as effected as he is from the kissing.

 “Wait,” he says over Harry’s almost silent whine after pulling away, taking Harry’s hand off his thigh and squeezing it. “You’ve been drinking.”

Harry’s eyes go wide, lips quirking up a little. “I’m fine, Louis. I’m not drunk anymore. Thank you for making sure.”

The moment a little too sweet, Louis surges back in to kiss Harry again, swallowing his small sound and smiling at how sweet he tastes from all those drinks earlier. He kisses Harry thoroughly, playing with the curls falling around his shoulders. When he tugs on one a little harder than he meant to, Harry whines, loud against the quiet night, sending chills down Louis’ spine.

“Harry,” he whispers, tugging on the curl again, feeling himself twitch, half hard in his jeans. He’s quick to grab Harry’s hand and pull it away when it settles over his crotch, nipping at Harry’s bottom lip momentarily, then whispering, “Not out here.”

“Well come on then,” Harry whispers back, pecking Louis on the cheek. He tugs at Louis’ wrist, who’s smiling from Harry’s eagerness and follows him down the dock. Their feet hit the wood floor harder than necessary, and Louis briefly worries about running down the dock too loud, but then they’re at Harry’s boat and stumbling inside, fingers clutched tightly and giggling like school girls.

“You are entirely too clumsy to run like that,” Louis says as he’s pressed up against the glass wall behind him. It’s too dark outside and inside for anybody walking by to be able to see them, but still, knowing that anybody could walk by outside while Harry’s rutting against Louis’ thigh right here sends a thrill down Louis’ spine. “Fuck Harry,” he chokes out when Harry starts sucking a mark right above his shoulder, at the base of his neck where he’s most sensitive.

“You could.”

Louis chokes even harder at that, dick throbbing in his pants by now. Images of them in a bed, naked, Harry’s legs thrown over Louis’ shoulders, tight heat—

Distracting him from his thoughts, Harry wedges his thigh further between Louis’, grinding against him even more, and Louis’ head falls back against the glass when he feels how hard Harry is against him. It’s so hot, Louis can already feel sweat forming on the back of his neck and forehead, and he would be much more comfortable if their clothes were off. But then Harry’s dropping to his knees faster than Louis can blink his eyes open.

“Oh.” Harry’s lips curls up a little in a smirk as his hands start working on the button and zip of Louis’ jeans, and Louis has half the mind to tug on his curls a little harder than necessary. He has a feeling Harry would like that though, so instead he just holds his breath and tries not to focus too hard on how slow Harry is undressing him.

He can feel Harry’s breath through his briefs, bites his lip as Harry pulls his briefs down to pool at his ankles with his jeans. The cool air on his cock isn’t the most comfortable, but Harry is right back where Louis wants him most—lips brushing the head, breath hot. When Louis looks down, he has to bite back a sound. Already Harry’s eyes are wide and a little glassy, forehead damp with sweat, and his lips look obscene from all the kissing, wrapping around the head of his dick like that.

His tongue flicks out over the slit and Louis almost loses his shit—it’s been too long since he’s received head, it really has, and seeing Harry down on his knees like that is giving Louis a bit of a head rush. “Fuck,” he whispers as Harry sinks down a little lower, mouth suction tight, hot tongue pressed right on a vein.

Harry’s eyes snap up to Louis’, bright even in the dark room, and he pulls off with a _pop!_ only to go right back, pushing down until Louis can feel his tight throat swallowing around himself. Harry’s hands sneak up under Louis’ shirt, pushing it up just a little, and he continues to bob up and down, driving Louis crazy. He barely gave himself any time to adjust, just started right at it; he’s so good at this that Louis is already whimpering, fingers caught in those curls.

After Harry adds a hand to the mix, grip tight, twisting and following his mouth up and down, Louis’ legs kicks out. He isn’t even embarrassed when Harry has to hold his knee tight with his other hand; this feels too good already.

It doesn’t take very long for him to notice the bubbling at the pit of his stomach, toes curling at the unrelenting pleasure. Harry moans around him, and Louis is about to protest, thinking that Harry’s getting himself off—he wants to do that himself, thank you very much—when he remembers both of Harry’s hands are occupied. And then he realizes he’s tugging on Harry’s curls harder than he thought.

Louis knew Harry would like that too much.

And it’s hot, is the thing. Experimenting a little, Louis tugs Harry’s head down for him, hips pumping forward lightly, and he makes sure to be gentle enough about it and to stop afterwards so Harry can stop him if he wants to.

Harry doesn’t though. He pulls off, hand taking over to keep Louis going, and says, “Fuck my mouth, please,” with no shame.

Louis can only watch for a few long seconds as Harry kitten licks over the head, pulling the foreskin back to get better access to the slit, but when Harry’s eyes pop up after he’s wrapped his lips around the head, Louis takes the initiative to do what Harry asked.

Eyes even more glassy, Louis stares down hard into them as he readjusts his grip in Harry’s curls and pumps his hips forward. Harry moans again, keeps making noises that vibrate around Louis and make this feel even better.

Louis doesn’t dare go too deep, not wanting to hurt Harry or cut off his oxygen supply—although he’ll have to ask Harry about that later because the thought makes the heat in Louis’ stomach grow—and he ignores the way his whimpers echo loudly through the large room.

Harry’s hands are free now, but he keeps them on Louis’ thighs, nails biting the skin and most definitely leaving marks. Louis will just have to return the favour in a bit.

For now, he rocks his hips, groaning every time he goes deep enough for Harry’s throat to constrict around him. He clamps his eyes shut so he’s not tempted to watch Harry. With his orgasm rapidly approaching, Louis knows he’s closer and closer to returning the favour, can already practically taste Harry’s come down his throat—shit.

“Harry,” he whispers, grip tightening around the curls. Harry’s nails dig deeper in the meat of Louis’ thighs, and he swipes his tongue around even while Louis keeps fucking in and out. The heat is building, and Louis can barely get out, “Fuck, I’m gonna come Harry,” before it gets to be too much.

To his surprise, Harry pushes down all the way, not seeming to care that is makes Louis’ fingers pull on his hair, and he doesn’t stop until his nose is buried in Louis’ sparse pubic hair, throat tight. It’s when one of Harry’s hands come up to roll Louis’ balls that he comes, shouting as the heat explodes up his spine and he spurts down Harry’s throat. It takes forever, it seems like, but only once Louis’ finally come down, starts going soft in Harry’s mouth, does he pull out.

“So good Haz,” he whispers as he pulls Harry back up so he’s standing. Louis kisses him right away, out of breath and half naked and not caring, eager. Harry kisses back, but he’s a bit distracted at best, and Louis eventually pulls away to find out why. He sees Harry palming himself, bulge large at the front of his jeans, and says, “Wait, let me.”

After kicking away his jeans and briefs and toeing off his shoes, Louis takes Harry’s hand and pulls him to the sofa. “Let’s take these off,” Louis whispers, working on Harry’s skinnies. He drops to his knees to pull them and Harry’s briefs down his legs, much like Harry did to him earlier. Then he pushes Harry back on to the sofa, crawling up after him in between his legs. It’s a tight squeeze, but it’s much better after Harry shimmies up so he’s leaning against the arm.

Louis can’t get over Harry’s beautiful legs. They’re so long and smooth and pale; there’s a tiger tattoo on the top of his thigh, and Louis smoothes his hands up and down Harry’s inner thighs, smiling wider when Harry pulls his shirt up. He ignores Harry’s cock in favour of leaning in and ghosting his lips over the soft skin of those beautiful thighs.

“So lovely,” he whispers, nipping along, taking in Harry’s reactions. Harry tries to stay still but Louis can tell he’s struggling, thighs twitching and hands scrambling along what he can reach of the cough. His breathing is laboured, hitching when Louis gets closer and closer to his groin.

It’s when Louis licks a stripe up the spine of Harry’s cock, fingers lightly fondling his sac, that Harry hooks his knees over Louis’ shoulders and presses his feet to Louis’ shoulder blades. Louis huffs out a quiet, short laugh in the nook of Harry’s thigh, tongue creeping out right after and tickling along until he licks over each of Harry’s balls slowly.

“Lou,” Harry whispers, heels digging harder into Louis’ back. Louis can see where Harry’s fingers of one hand are gripping the closest sofa cushion, tight enough that it looks like it might be painful for Harry, so he reaches up with his free hand and tangles their fingers together. Harry’s biting his lip, whimpering a little as Louis suckles right under the head. He kicks his leg out, says, “Get on with it.” And as an afterthought, he tacks on, “Please?”

Not being able to deny Harry any longer, Louis wraps his lips around the head of Harry’s cock and sucks him down half way, thumb pressing to the sensitive skin right under Harry’s sac as he tongues up the shaft, slow and steady. Harry thrashes a little bit before stilling completely, and when Louis peeks up, tongue rolling over the slit repeatedly, he sees Harry’s glazed eyes locked on him, pretty and still-swollen mouth hung open in awe.

“Y’gonna catch flies, beautiful,” he teases after pulling off, and the only response Harry can give is to snap his mouth shut. He lays there, unmoving and watching like a hawk as Louis nibbles up and down his thigh, thumb still rubbing so close to his hole but never moving closer.

After leaving a mark or two, Louis decides he’s teased Harry enough and gets back to work, squeezing Harry’s fingers between his own as he sucks Harry down, again and again, working his mouth and throat more and more. Harry manages to stay quiet save for his strenuous breathing, but when Louis pushes down all the way, sucking Harry into the back of his throat and keeping him there, a broken moan falls from Harry’s lips, hips twitching.

From there on out it’s nothing but the sound of precome and saliva and Harry’s shaky cries every now and then when he can’t manage to keep it down. Luckily they don’t have to keep it down, since they’re the only ones on Harry’s boat. Hopefully Louis can take that for advantage—sometime, but not tonight.

Tonight, he’s more than okay with just this, and then maybe some cuddling after, if Harry’s up for it.

He redoubles his efforts when he notices Harry has been quiet for too long, mouth suction-tight and throat humming every time he goes down far enough. He has Harry twitching and moaning repeatedly, his name falling from those lips every so often, and soon enough Harry’s fingers from his free hand are tangling in Louis’ hair and pulling him off. “Gonna come,” he whispers in warning.

Louis shakes Harry’s hand off and sinks right back down, tonguing along the base of Harry’s cock as much as he can as he swallows around the head, promptly making Harry arch off the sofa and spill down his throat. “Fuck fuck _fuck_ ,” Harry chants, head shaking back and forth. Louis swallows what he can, watching Harry’s stomach muscles twitching, but he can feel a little warmth seeping from the corner of his mouth. He isn’t too surprised when Harry pulls him up right after and licks up the little bit Louis missed, then pulls him even closer for a deep kiss.

They taste like each other’s come, but Louis doesn’t care and neither does Harry, it seems, so Louis settles between Harry’s spread legs with his forearms against the arm of the couch, kissing back just as eagerly.

“Stay,” Louis hears Harry whisper after he finally pulls back, and already he’s nodding in agreement.

“’Course,” he whispers in reply, pushing back the sweaty curls from Harry’s temple and kissing him there. “Let’s find a real bed first, though.” Harry nods in agreement, sitting up with Louis. His legs stay spread around Louis’, and before Louis knows it, Harry is kissing along his jaw with a smile. “Alright, monkey, come on. I’ll grab our clothes, alright?”

Harry smiles, but then he waggles his eyebrows after getting up, says, “I’ll get the bed nice and warm.”

“Go, you minx,” Louis chuckles out, shoving Harry carefully towards the direction of the stairs.

After watching Harry scuttle away, particularly Harry’s pert little bum that Louis decides he will definitely bite a mark into some day, Louis searches for all their clothes. He leaves their shoes next to the sofa after eyeing the new piano Harry’s mentioned a couple times, imagining what it would be like to bend over it with Harry behind him, then forces himself upstairs. With the pile of clothes in his arms, Louis finds Harry deep in the covers. His eyes and curls peek out from under the duvet, and Louis snorts as he drops everything on the floor.

Harry whines when Louis presses his cold hands to Harry’s stomach, after crawling under the covers with him, and Louis just presses his fingers up higher under his armpits. “You’re warm,” Louis whines back, pulling out a pout that has Harry melting into Louis’ side instantly.

They’re both naked, skin sticky and sweat-dried, but neither of them make a move for the shower or at least a wet flannel. “We can clean in the morning,” Harry murmurs, seeming to have read Louis’ mind.

He snuggles in closer, throwing a leg over Louis’, and Louis hums in content.

Their warm bubble is ruined a few minutes later when Louis hears his phone ringing from inside his jean’s pocket, all the way by the door. It’s the ringtone he set specifically for Niall, and Louis and Harry both groan. “Just a sec, babe,” he murmurs, wincing at the cold floor chilling his feet.

“What?” he snaps when he finally gets his phone out of the pocket and answers.

“Jesus, sorry I interrupted your fuck-fest,” Niall snaps back, voice chipper as always. “But you said you’d come back to pick us all up. We’re ready to go so you better get your arse here soon.”

Louis groans, turning back to look at how warm and cuddly Harry looks under all the covers. His eyes are curious, and Louis frowns as he starts looking for his briefs. “Alright, be there soon. You better be ready outside because if I don’t find you I’m leaving you all there.” With that he hangs up and chucks his phone on Harry’s bed. It’s about to die anyway; no reason in taking it with him.

“You’re leaving?” Harry asks with a pout after Louis’ managed to get himself fully dressed save for his shoes.

“I’m picking the guys up,” explains Louis, walking back to the bed and bending over it to kiss Harry’s forehead. “I’ll come back, if you want. Just gotta grab some clothes when I drop Niall off.”

Harry is already nodding by the time Louis is finished speaking, lips quirked into a smile. “Keys should be in my pocket somewhere—” Harry nods towards his clothes by the door, “—I might be asleep when you get back.”

“I’ll try not to wake you up then.” After kissing Harry one more time on the lips, Louis finds the keys and steals one of Harry’s jumpers from his closet, then makes his way downstairs, locking the deck doors behind himself.

 

Harry is asleep when Louis sneaks back inside, stripping down to the boxers he changed into at home and slipping under the duvet. Harry only shuffles a little when Louis spoons up behind him, sighing contentedly and settling easily enough. Louis smiles at that, squeezing Harry closer and pressing a soft kiss to the back of his head before falling asleep as well.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I will add links to my Tumblr/Twitter and links to my beta (and the other two if they consent) once the authors are revealed, so be on the look out for that if you are interested. Thank you for reading.
> 
> Xx


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